Sold
by CarpeDiem102
Summary: Walter White enjoys living as a criminal. He exercises control over every aspect of his life, from his workplace to his family. Following a particularly heated argument with Skyler about family and sacrifice, Walter is kidnapped and sold into a business far worse than the methamphetamine trade. He learns the true meaning of sacrifice, and the effect of domination and control.


06/09/2015

"Scotch; Dimple Pinch, neat" said Walt as he slid into his all familiar barstool. It was a quiet place, a hole in the wall. To Walt, it was comfortable. The cocoon of dark pinewood paneling and weathered beer posters felt much more inviting than his home ever would again. He took a deep breath in through his nose, welcoming the subtle sting of liquor in the air. As the bartender moved to hand him his drink, Walt pulled a Benjamin from his battered wallet and laid it on the counter.

"Keep the change," he said, pushing the bill into the middle-aged man's hesitant fingers. The man's eyebrows rose, glancing between Walt's humble attire and the hundred-dollar note in his hands.

"Uh…thank you man, really thank you, but I can't take this—"

"Keep the change," Walt repeated insistently. He waited, his gaze lying heavily on the bartenders conflicted brow. Eventually the man pocketed the money and moved on, giving another quiet 'thank you' before attending to the next waiting barfly.

Walt knew he could afford much better than this place. He could buy out this entire building if he wanted to. Hell, he could tear this place down and build a new, state-of-the-art bar and brewery in its spot. But he didn't need that. He liked the nature of the dumpy joint and the people it attracted. He felt at home with the bikers whose faces spoke of a hardened, dangerous life. He identified with the huddled figures of men and women, their tired eyes watching the bar and their fists wrapped tightly around their drink. There was always a slight tinge of danger, of suspicion, a feeling that something was always balancing on the precipice of legality. This was the environment in which Walt felt most safe. He scanned the room with a sense of satisfaction, briefly locking eyes with a dark haired woman in the corner. She held his gaze and winked, a dark smile creeping onto her cheeks and stretching the tattoos that littered her neck. Walt chuckled a bit; yes this was his kind of place.

He nursed his drink a bit more and turned to watch whatever game was on the television.

"Walt…what do you think you're doing here?"

"This is _my_ home Skyler. _My_ home. I've been paying this family's bills for—"

"This is _not_ your home anymore Walt! You can't come strolling in here and expect me to just allow you to come back into our lives like a—"

"How _dare you_ tell me I can't enter my own house! I have worked to keep this family afloat—"

"Get out, Walt! I will call the authorities! Right now! You have ten seconds—"

Walt knew this argument by heart. Every night he would come home late, and Skyler would attempt to kick him to the curb. Every single night. He could hear the fear and desperation build in her voice each time, the hope that maybe this once he would finally give in and leave, leave Walter Junior, leave the baby…

He would never give her the satisfaction. This bitch who thought that she could just take away everything he held dear…

Skyler began to cry, breaking away from the pattern of past nights.

"Walt _please_. I'm begging you. I can't take it…"

"It's not my problem that you can't appreciate the sacrifices I make for this family!"

Skyler sobbed quietly and sank down into the living room couch. Walt loomed over her, staring down at the top of her scalp. He noticed a streak of gray that wasn't there before, hiding underneath the mass of golden locks he used to love so dearly.

"That's the thing…" she choked out beneath the sobs. "This _business_ of yours…it's not a sacrifice…you _love_ doing this…never in the past year have you sacrificed for your family…you've only been selfish… selfish at our expense…"

A moment of heavy silence followed. Walt wrestled with his own rage, shaking from the hatred he felt for her, shaking from the inconvenient truth of her statement, shaking from everything.

He suddenly dropped down before her and grabbed her shoulders forcefully.

" _Look at me_ " he growled. Skyler broke down in heavier tears, her face contorting with grief and terror. Her body lunged away desperately, trying to escape his painful grip.

" _I said look at me."_ He shook her hard, jolting her back in front of him. "I love my children. More than you could possibly understand. You _will not_ take them away from me, and you _cannot_ get rid of me. So, you'd better get used to me being here. I will not have this argument again."

Skyler's face turned white and chalky. Her breath hitched and stuttered.

"I will find a way to get rid of you, Walt," she hissed. "I swear to all that is holy, I will find a way."

Walt gritted his teeth until he felt pain. He tightened his hold on her shoulder until she gasped and then shoved her back into the couch cushions.

"Go get ready for bed," he spat. "I'll be there in a minute."

Skyler climbed off the couch, bent over and trembling like a wounded animal.

" _Fuck you_ ," she snapped. "Stay out of my bed and leave my family alone. Go back to that fucking bar where you belong with the rest of the dregs of society."

His anger finally boiled over. He advanced on her, striding across the room with vengeance in his eyes. Skyler let out a strangled yell and darted around to the other side of the couch, cowering behind the furniture.

"You think you can get away?!" Walt barked. With a grunt, he jumped directly over the back of the couch and lunged at her. She screamed and rolled out of the way, scrambling for the safety of the kitchen. Walt clawed at her ankles from the floor but to no avail; she slipped out of his reach and grabbed a carving knife from the silverware drawer, brandishing it towards him with shaking hands.

The two of them held this pose for a long while, Walt crouched on the carpet and Skyler gripping the knife like it was her last hope for living. Eventually, Walt began to move slowly, creeping his way towards his wife with his hands out and above his head.

"Put that away, Skyler," Walt murmured. "Think about this for a second, and then put it away. If you kill me, you will rot in prison for the rest of your life. You will lose your children forever. Do you want that for yourself? Huh? Do you want that on your conscience, knowing that you killed Walter Junior's father? Someone he has looked up to his entire life? Or how about the knowledge that you'd be leaving your children with mountains of legal and medical debt, since neither you nor they know where I keep my money? What about that?"

It took several minutes, but her fingers eventually loosened their grip and the knife clattered to the floor. Skyler collapsed from the wracking sobs, curling up into a ball on the laminate tile. Walt quickly slid over and grabbed the weapon, tucking it into his belt loop for the time being.

"Good….good…" he breathed, checking his watch for the time. "Well it's getting late. Get yourself cleaned up and let's get some shuteye."


End file.
